tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6565274854183172902024-03-05T23:17:42.782-08:00My Slice o' LifeJennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-10829945604127314552012-05-06T17:26:00.000-07:002012-05-06T17:28:07.681-07:00FragilityLast week, I went to a $10,000 fundraiser at my work. Truthfully, I had no intention of going but my parents bought a ticket to the raffle and since Michael is back working I figured I could spring for the $100 ticket with the hopes that I would win the $10,000 and build my emergency savings back up. A girl can never be too safe, you know.<br />
<br />
My parents and I drove together. Michael stayed home with the kiddos and enjoyed movies and nachos. I have to admit I had my typical lottery mindset. I was already planning on calling home with the great news - should I put all of it in savings, should I buy the curtains I want from Ballard Designs, should I, should I, should I... my mind was racing with possibilities. Thankfully, my mind did not have to spin for long, my number was eliminated before I finalized my plans.<br />
<br />
I am not even sure why, but on the way home, we started talking about my dad's religious upbringing. He was raised Protestant and converted to Catholicism when he married my mom. Because I did not know, I asked if he was active as a Protestant. He told me my grandmother "Limbacher" taught Sunday School when he was growing up. I never knew that. When I got home I spent all night wondering what else I did not know.<br />
<br />
My "Limbacher" - the name I lovingly gave my grandmother when I was a little girl remained my name for her until she passed when I was 33. In fact, I still refer to her as "Limbacher" and my kids know her by that name.<br />
<br />
I know that she was a meticulous woman. Her craftsmanship was unbelievable. She made me handmade doll house furniture when I was little. She made her own daughter, my aunt, outfits with matching outfits for her doll. She painted furniture that adorned her home. <br />
<br />
My favorite thing she made was Ukrainian Eggs. She would hand-blow the eggs and then using hot wax and dye she would create intricate, authentic designs. Her patience for crafts was obviously a bit stronger than mine. <br />
<br />
She displayed the eggs in her home in beautiful, crystal bowls. She was not afraid that they were going to break. She even talked about not worrying about it. She felt that they were meant to be out and enjoyed and if something happened so be it. <br />
<br />
I am <u>always</u> afraid that things are going to break. Sometimes, I think, I do not even put things out so I will not have to worry about them breaking. Seems a bit pathetic when I think about it.<br />
<br />
When my grandfather died, we visited Limbacher at her home in upstate New York. As we were leaving, my aunt gave me a little round box. As we drove away, I open the box and inside was one of Limbacher's eggs. I cried. I have never had the guts to display the egg. It has sat in the box in my jewelry drawer since I brought it home. Every once in a while, I take a peek. I do not always peek, I simply feel comfort in knowing that it is there. <br />
<br />
After the night spent wondering about all the things I did not know about her life, I saw the box in my drawer and opened it. It was broken. I was a bit shocked and burst into tears. Not the gentle roll down the cheek kind of tears, but the ugly cry. I could not even pull together why I was so upset. My daughter saw me crying and reminded me that my parents had a bunch of her eggs at their house in the cartons....and then, to myself, I got even more sad. <br />
<br />
I did not even honor her. She never would have kept the egg in her drawer. She would have proudly displayed it. She would have shared it - she would not have been afraid that it would break. <br />
<br />
I am not saying that she was without fear - In fact, I did not know her enough to even know that. But I know that fragility of these eggs did not scare her...and I know that fragility scares me. I get anxious, sad, and worried that things will end - and maybe if I keep them in a safe, little box I will be spared.<br />
<br />
But, as with the egg, even when things are kept safe and sound - life happens - and sometimes things break. The memories do not break. Nothing changes to all that you know and do not know. <br />
<br />
I kept the egg. I took it out of the box. <br />
<br />
I have slowly, but surely, started going through my house. I have started unpacking the fragile - literally and figuratively. I have started tossing the things that do not mean anything to me, to our family or to our journey. I am taking the fragile head-on because it might be just a little bit easier to say good bye if I have enjoyed it along the way. Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-80910799167790942852012-01-21T16:36:00.000-08:002012-01-22T06:34:41.727-08:00Love, Your 41-year old future self<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpPqZV-U8UL_Su21L3PFu82v8O3j_H_3YU50N8CeDYKGd7FyL3W1ZrJ6paZNJ4hR2nMnsoHTaUKRmcNEVKM8imC8qK_UdnPTsrcQRKH-kPtS_rZLg3FdhOZkSRPUb6407cK8ry03sk0-0/s1600/DSCF3109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpPqZV-U8UL_Su21L3PFu82v8O3j_H_3YU50N8CeDYKGd7FyL3W1ZrJ6paZNJ4hR2nMnsoHTaUKRmcNEVKM8imC8qK_UdnPTsrcQRKH-kPtS_rZLg3FdhOZkSRPUb6407cK8ry03sk0-0/s320/DSCF3109.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Happy New Year! I have been quite absent from the blogging world...I dare to say this past year has been a bit stressful. Sometimes when I am stressed it is easier for me to stay busy than to slow down and really focus on the worry. 2012 is my year to get back into my blog....<br />
<br />
I watch the Today Show every day. I have watched it for as long as I can remember. It was a regular in my house growing up and to this day it is how I start my day - and thanks to my dvr - sometimes how I end it. <br />
<br />
Last week, on one particular segment, a question I have heard before was asked, "What would you tell your 16 year old self? " I have heard the question before. I have heard about the book, Dear Me, a compilation of heartfelt letters from celebrities answering and offering insight. <br />
<br />
I have never thought about my answer. I have never read their answers. But this time, I paused. <br />
<br />
I am not even sure why, but I have been focused on the question all week. I found myself grabbing my notepad in my purse and scribbling things down.<br />
<br />
It is a great question and a book I will definitely read...but not until I write my own letter....so in the spirit of the book and the question that has been pausing me all week, here goes....<br />
<br />
----------------------------<br />
<br />
Dear Me,<br />
<br />
It is difficult to see it now, but you are on a journey. There is no right or wrong course. In fact, you should be prepared to take turns along the way and change direction, when it feels right. You should begin to listen to YOU for the answer as to when it feels right, because only you will know.<br />
<br />
You should not be afraid to ask for direction - there are people all around you who will come into your life for different reasons. Surround yourself with these people. Don't be afraid to learn the lessons they can teach. They may be family, friends, bosses, teachers, doctors, and even your children. There are lessons in every situation and from everyone - Some positive and some negative. They will all teach you - be open to hearing their voices. <br />
<br />
Be open and share - not just the proverbial toys in the sandbox - but yourself. You may be faced with challenges that don't seem fair...they may seem scary...they may rock you, but I bet if you are open about your experiences and challenges, you will help others and in doing so help yourself more than you will ever know.<br />
<br />
It is important to plan, but it is more important to be prepared. There is no perfect. You cannot even pretend to know the curves that may be thrown your way, but when you are true to yourself you will know how to handle them with grace.<br />
<br />
Remember to laugh. Really laugh.<br />
<br />
Remember to cry. <br />
<br />
Remember to breathe and try not worry so much. Try your hardest not to let "the worry about things that may never happen" derail you in your every day. More often than not, the worry is worse than the what if.<br />
<br />
Remember to volunteer. It is important to give your time and energy to causes that are important to you. Use your voice to make a difference. Admit when you make mistakes, and do not gloat when you are right. <br />
<br />
Take time to appreciate all that you have been given in life - and I am not talking about material things. You are not entitled to anything. Appreciate and show gratitude for it all.<br />
<br />
<br />
And finally, remember to be in the present. Work hard at staying in the moment. Look people in the eyes and don't let distractions take you away from being right where you are. Because right where you are is right where you are supposed to be.<br />
<br />
Love, <br />
<br />
Your 41-year old future self<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-85559580571812920342011-07-29T16:36:00.000-07:002011-07-29T19:01:40.943-07:00What's in a name?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnHKHLcKDkGuzvjFHXpwf6L6XyNcCzlMbY7eu0QgR0V0EeygIJZBCJ_STlClZSnCVPqFnKY6aaIG8E2DLBZxRkH7F7cN-JCoJ3PEZ3ZfP-I7wyuakvJtOv0G_fI4lPzB-8OBARgQLlknA/s1600/057_-_Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnHKHLcKDkGuzvjFHXpwf6L6XyNcCzlMbY7eu0QgR0V0EeygIJZBCJ_STlClZSnCVPqFnKY6aaIG8E2DLBZxRkH7F7cN-JCoJ3PEZ3ZfP-I7wyuakvJtOv0G_fI4lPzB-8OBARgQLlknA/s320/057_-_Copy.JPG" t$="true" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I was a communications major in college - the public relations, writing, and marketing side of communications. I was not very into the media side - however, I did take some classes in that arena. One of my favorite classes of all time was "Women in the Media." It is a class that I carry with me today. The messages were all about self respect, strength, and determination. My professor's name was Madeline. She was fantastic. I remember her lessons and her teachings based on the curriculum, but it is the life lessons that get me still.<br />
<br />
I remember one time I came into class and I bumped into the desk. I said out loud to the student sitting beside me "I am so clutzy." Class had not started and Maddie (as she was called) heard me. She made her way over and said "I heard what you said - you should never talk negative about yourself, you should always be strong and never put yourself down" What a moment. I do not think I ever heard those words so directly. I still hold them close when I think something negative. When I think I cannot do something. What would she tell student Jenni.<br />
<br />
I think a good part of my love for the name Madeline came from my professor. Her strength and her ability to share her strength really struck a chord with me.<br />
<br />
Fast forward many years. I found out I was having a daughter and I could only focus on the name Madeline. I did not even entertain any other possibilities. I did not even think for a moment that my husband would not go along. I would have a Madeline.<br />
<br />
About a year ago my Madeline and I were talking about names. I told her the story of my professor Madeline and how strong she was - and how she taught me about strength.<br />
<br />
This evening Maddie and I were cleaning up her room and hanging up her clothes. I am getting her used to hanging up her clothes and taking care of her room. It was a nice time - not fun cleaning, of course - but in sharing some fairly quiet time with her. <br />
<br />
Out of the blue she said "I know why you named me Madeline"<br />
<br />
I said "Why is that?"<br />
<br />
And then she said - with full conviction "Because it is a name that girls with courage have - and you knew I would be able to handle any troubles that came my way. Remember your teacher in school."<br />
<br />
Boy, do I ever. Sometimes I have to be reminded that my Madeline is only 7. She is full of spirit and determination. She does not often take no. She puts me to the test - every day. But it is in the quiet moments - that don't happen often - that she opens me up to her soul - and for that I am grateful.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHqzk1wcSYnnHIownPO7uFimsY72XU-MWHYqLLtpgi3CDViWxVrK4ogyXTqgUrczB7yjEtTpRhQa78fsf4qZsLrX-o5C1uNllGSnfKpAvvGZq77mcP515pbwFUbyut9JSjLlBhvCzMRtI/s1600/untitled.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHqzk1wcSYnnHIownPO7uFimsY72XU-MWHYqLLtpgi3CDViWxVrK4ogyXTqgUrczB7yjEtTpRhQa78fsf4qZsLrX-o5C1uNllGSnfKpAvvGZq77mcP515pbwFUbyut9JSjLlBhvCzMRtI/s320/untitled.bmp" t$="true" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">recent photo that was in the local newspaper<br />
love the no shoes and shorts??!! <br />
too much fun in the playground!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-32626904693797391012011-02-05T14:07:00.000-08:002011-02-05T14:07:16.153-08:00Entitlement...Get Over It!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I am blogging again. I have to admit I took a break for the last two months. It is not as if I really wanted to - I just couldn't get it together. I would start to write and I would be blocked. Rather funny since I write at work most of the day.<br />
<br />
It finally hit me today. I was sitting down on the couch with our kitten in my lap relaxing. My mom took the kids as I have been having some problems with my MS in my eye and she wanted to give me a few hours to myself. I was thinking of a conversation I had recently and how I was complaining that it felt like the universe was colliding with me. My boss, a priest, said maybe it is. I was a little stunned and a touch annoyed. I never thought of that. And I did not even process the thought until this afternoon.<br />
<br />
Here I am worried and complaining to myself about my husband being laid off from work over a year ago, how worried I am that we are going to go through all of the emergency savings, how tired I am, how much I have to do for the PSO, how scared I get when my MS acts up and I lose some vision, how our renovations seem like they will never be done, how I don't have time to do the creative things I love...it goes on.<br />
<br />
I even confessed I am a little mad at God. And then it hit me. Why do I think I am entitled to have everything work out the way I think it should work out? <br />
<br />
Here I am praying each day for strength and yet I still need to be in control. I am trying to hold it all together, and all the while the outside me is so positive but the inside feels like an egg about to drop. Why can't I let go and believe that there is another plan? Maybe the next steps will be as good if not better than the old steps. I guess that is what faith is - and it just took me a while to get the message. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div> Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-73980540070560465552010-11-27T15:16:00.000-08:002010-11-27T15:16:05.117-08:00Nothing Strange....<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ga8MslqtIw25lQT_lImizdRCB7360cH9i0Vo1OZWTasFh38OPGH-3RrPc97JaLBl44V_S94H5yNCY9KpRfuJTYqxIjKNU0rf43vLrF9PhIkyjK3NyNj8RF2DJWU97AnM74zlZMWTJ-c/s1600/DSCF5289.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ga8MslqtIw25lQT_lImizdRCB7360cH9i0Vo1OZWTasFh38OPGH-3RrPc97JaLBl44V_S94H5yNCY9KpRfuJTYqxIjKNU0rf43vLrF9PhIkyjK3NyNj8RF2DJWU97AnM74zlZMWTJ-c/s320/DSCF5289.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom and Rosemary - (not on Black Friday!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Before today, I thought there were two types of people. Those who like shopping Black Friday and those who don't. I did not dawn on me that there was a third category.<br />
<br />
There is. I hate to put myself in a group - but as the expression goes "if the shoe fits...." <br />
<br />
There is the category of people who like Black Friday, leave the house at 11 to meet their best friends and get to the store by midnight only to find that the store does not open until 4 am. Who knew?<br />
<br />
Best friends + comedy of errors = great time. So, we spent four hours in the middle of the night in the rain sitting in the parking lot of Target drinking coffee that took us an hour to get at McDonalds.<br />
<br />
What's strange about that? Nothing strange to me. Not when you laugh until your sides hurt. Not when you are grateful for friends and friendships that pick up where they left off - like there has never been a day apart. Nothing strange when you realize that you don't even care if you get the door buster but simply enjoy just being with your mom and your close friends. There is nothing better than wrapping up my favorite day of the year with an all-nighter with best friends.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>And to keep it all going we woke up today and did it again. Well, not the midnight run and the parking lot hangout, but a trip to CTS and a lunch full of laughs to fill our soul until we all get together again. I am grateful.Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-32891572839373490952010-11-07T12:08:00.000-08:002010-11-07T12:08:36.839-08:00Limbacher<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaFueD0jYj6d0o1hyxRAgiRANos3nNDnN3YVjI5x_0WDGVtZMyMwhL5p8qyaZjpVUA2lK-Ok2T10q8msANHddZJpkPEOOBhVtgHdBFnPOpQI1acnpRJBbj_Nm1o-stJ1KOYjI7sW2IZJU/s1600/DSCF6430.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaFueD0jYj6d0o1hyxRAgiRANos3nNDnN3YVjI5x_0WDGVtZMyMwhL5p8qyaZjpVUA2lK-Ok2T10q8msANHddZJpkPEOOBhVtgHdBFnPOpQI1acnpRJBbj_Nm1o-stJ1KOYjI7sW2IZJU/s320/DSCF6430.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maddie the Dino - A last minute switch from Pebbles!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjimLVkwiYOyvwkf26rjDuentDOZPSqaAXzlCXEu1H-7CizQdyq7lJcyukdgXpensYHcMZPTOramhQ8VNNKaFXG-JCjxir0yLjO3E2PjceWuephR8DiSH4qnJEkFF2bGqz6rY_6oBOke2w/s1600/DSCF6434.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjimLVkwiYOyvwkf26rjDuentDOZPSqaAXzlCXEu1H-7CizQdyq7lJcyukdgXpensYHcMZPTOramhQ8VNNKaFXG-JCjxir0yLjO3E2PjceWuephR8DiSH4qnJEkFF2bGqz6rY_6oBOke2w/s320/DSCF6434.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Michael the "Skeleton Robber" this is the back of the costume! <br />
So funny when he ran!!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
It has been a busy couple of weeks - between birthdays, Halloween, cousins, and everyday life, I have been going 'round the clock. I know this is the reality for so many families - that is not lost on me. I am a gal who needs down time. I need to be able to connect with a book, a project, even a tv show to decompress. I guess it is the connection that I crave. <br />
<br />
This week I certainly got the connection I needed. <br />
<br />
I am a touch of a pack rat. Kinda. I have always saved "things" that are important to me. Growing up I had a lot of Ginny Dolls. As an only child, I remember playing with them for hours on end. My mom would take me to The Granite, the local five and dime at the time, to buy outfits for the dolls. I loved dressing the dolls in the outfits and sorting the clothes. <br />
<br />
It comes as no surprise that I saved these dolls. I have been waiting for the "right" time to pass these dolls on to my daughter. This weekend, as I packed away the Halloween decorations and costumes I can't bear to say good-bye to, I pulled down the dolls. <br />
<br />
I think I was even more excited than my daughter but, according to her it was "the best day of her life!"<br />
<br />
I also pulled down my dollhouse stuff. I have a whole bin full of doll house furniture and accessories. It is hard to put into words all that this bin means to me - then and now. <br />
<br />
As a little girl my dad made me a doll house - and my grandparents, Limbacher and Grandfather made me furniture. Not just basic furniture - deluxe furniture.<br />
<br />
It is difficult to explain without seeing the furniture first-hand or without you knowing my grandmother but I will try to put it in words. My grandmother, who I lovingly referred to as Limbacher, was meticulous. Her craftsmanship was exceptional. She made beautiful Ukrainian Easter Eggs, delicious food, doll clothes, and doll furniture just to name a few of her talents I treasure. <br />
<br />
The doll furniture includes couches, chairs, ottomans, tables, a hand-painted chest with my initials, and a red velvet chaise lounge. With grandfather, she built hutches and bureaus. I always knew how amazing it was. But when I opened the box as a grown up, I was blown away by the true labor of love that stood before me.<br />
<br />
I shared it with my kids - both son and daughter alike took joy in opening the box. I had enough to not only fill several houses, but a general store. When I used to visit my grandparents in New York, my favorite spot to shop was the general store. It was only fitting that I asked my Dad to make me a general store. I have shelves, a pint size cash register and general store goodies to make the experience genuine.<br />
<br />
Through it all, all I could think of was Limbacher. I wondered what she was thinking when she made the furniture. I wondered if she ever thought when she was making the furniture for me if I would save it for my kids to enjoy one day. I wondered if she ever had her own doll house when she was younger. <br />
<br />
I stopped wondering and starting wishing. Wishing I could tell her how much I had played with the furniture and that I saved it all these years. But mostly, wishing that I could tell her all about my kids and how much joy they are having playing with the furniture.Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-72155668965766982892010-10-14T14:57:00.000-07:002010-10-14T14:57:04.421-07:0040<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZMuuLyjlaz3DAxdFxK8ZjrCMzBxMF1mkTOWKNdTj29GIgqGG_pZ5g8GwI4dsr_j9LY3PEZWYm2-bVUTBYVfUOjwEZtWXhGJ5aSakur45bg7UlfEHp8KxRX-wAeakDMJAEEoNsje9a2EU/s1600/DSCF6100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZMuuLyjlaz3DAxdFxK8ZjrCMzBxMF1mkTOWKNdTj29GIgqGG_pZ5g8GwI4dsr_j9LY3PEZWYm2-bVUTBYVfUOjwEZtWXhGJ5aSakur45bg7UlfEHp8KxRX-wAeakDMJAEEoNsje9a2EU/s320/DSCF6100.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
In honor of me today, since it is my birthday, I thought I would post a picture of one of my favorite days at one of my favorite places. During the summer, we frequent a beach with dear friends. "Float Around Beach" is hands down one of my favorite places in.the.world. The current is such that you start at one point of the large ocean circle and literally float around the entire area. It is difficult to explain. It is easier to let go and float. <br />
<br />
I have floated around this location many times. Sometimes we use boogie boards. Our kids use life jackets. Both grown ups and kids float. Often over and over. "Ready for a float around?" Music to my ears.<br />
<br />
In this particular picture, on this particular day, I learned to let go. Seriously let go. I can honestly say in all of my days I have never felt so free. It is hard to see, but if you look close you can see I am in full float. I felt as carefree as I look. I could hear the water rushing by and feel it moving my body around. I was not even sure of the direction I was heading. And not even caring. <br />
<br />
I think it is a good lesson for me. Not the not caring part...but the part about not being worried about the direction I was heading. Sometimes I get caught up in the direction I am going. As long as I am moving forward, I need to let go.<br />
<br />
I turned 40 today. I have to say I know it is a hard birthday for some people. It is not difficult for me. I don't want to get all MS here, but it is an issue. Fourteen years ago when I was diagnosed with MS, I would not even let myself envision what today would look like. I did not know what tricks my body would pull. My visions of MS were "old school" - they were worst case scenario Polaroids developing before my eyes.<br />
<br />
I am not those Polaroids. I am strong, positive, and fortunate. And this is not to say I am without problems. I am. But it is not how I choose to look at it.<br />
<br />
<br />
I mustered up the strength without breaking down to explain to my husband this morning. That I do not need anything for my birthday - I really do indeed have all that I need.<br />
<br />
<br />
Some of my girlfriends took me to a wonderful lunch today. I was truly surprised by it all. I was overwhelmed by their generosity. Each of these women are so different, but we share so much of the same. They are "islanders" If I was to be stuck on a desert island - they are people I would want beside me. They give to their families, their community, their friends. They inspire me to be a better person. To listen more. To share more. I am fortunate that they shared today with me. And in the spirit of not being worried about the direction I am heading, I can honestly say that today I am heading down the right path.Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-34896787610199056762010-09-17T14:57:00.000-07:002010-09-17T14:57:29.608-07:00Bump in the Road<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmAo5MGEKDR3EWkAr_VMz7PCmDHU6SCJ5kTydKgIBbgsTdmVE6J1R3QWpgLAI_9Jr_NmODVHn3pu7UW4arouNOx5uKBtZXnktf3Yd-NoUbyWMl_UhszW5ed-DSWR7DcthdMDOlXTBLjO8/s1600/DSCF6142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmAo5MGEKDR3EWkAr_VMz7PCmDHU6SCJ5kTydKgIBbgsTdmVE6J1R3QWpgLAI_9Jr_NmODVHn3pu7UW4arouNOx5uKBtZXnktf3Yd-NoUbyWMl_UhszW5ed-DSWR7DcthdMDOlXTBLjO8/s320/DSCF6142.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Life has been pretty busy on the home front and on the work front. I find myself missing out on a few of the things that keep me grounded. Writing on this blog is one of them.<br />
<br />
The kiddos are back at school. New grades = New challenges. Most of them good, a few that have been difficult. The homework is getting harder for my oldest student. For the first time, his organization and time management are being put to the test. And I guess, to be a strong model, so is mine.<br />
<br />
For him, the challenge is reading. In our home, it is overwhelming for him to pick the "just right" book, when you think everyone else is reading "War and Peace." If he only knew that they aren't - and if they are - they are faking it. A handful maybe. But a good many are faced with some challenges. They just don't tell anyone. I think it's OK to tell.<br />
<br />
I met with the specialist this morning. She passed many books on to me to have him plow through. They are easier than his level, but will allow him to self correct and continue to build his foundation. He will still read his challenging books. His love of books and reading will still be honored.<br />
<br />
Well, it went over like a lead balloon. Tears and frustration. Lots of tears and frustration. For the first time, I shared with my son something I ALWAYS say to myself. This is just a bump in the road. In fact, I say it so much to myself sometimes I sound like a broken record in my head. This is just a bump in the road.<br />
<br />
I remember the first time I said it to myself. I had to get 4 days of IV for my MS. I allowed myself a pity party. I cried and then I dusted myself off. Before it started the next afternoon, I read "Night" by Elie Wiesel and decided promptly that my problems were in fact, just a bump in the road. I continue to believe that. It will be OK.<br />
<br />
I believe it for my son, too. It is a tough lesson to learn when you are nine. But I can't think of a better time. I wish I had learned it at nine. I know in my heart if he realizes that this is "just for now" and that he will be on a smooth road again real soon, he will get over this bump stronger and on the right path. It will be OK.Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-55496698583462842182010-08-21T14:28:00.000-07:002010-08-21T14:28:33.641-07:00It's All in the Details<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixwXyDYzdtYolJlOb5wh6sRuvZvjGeYEtLe49nbMjBmLfWEq1uPmnMYaNGkCzgxZ93VSNKTNY6hBgeRP36fV-ww7kdc6uZJlzcj3WF98PbIHp53yFUEoQNffGXwzZ6EYFvxn1odakavDQ/s1600/detailsblogpsd+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixwXyDYzdtYolJlOb5wh6sRuvZvjGeYEtLe49nbMjBmLfWEq1uPmnMYaNGkCzgxZ93VSNKTNY6hBgeRP36fV-ww7kdc6uZJlzcj3WF98PbIHp53yFUEoQNffGXwzZ6EYFvxn1odakavDQ/s320/detailsblogpsd+copy.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>I love details. I swoon over all of the little things that make something special. I just love it when someone takes the extra step to do just a little bit more. It is the little bits that make me the happiest. <br />
<br />
I think my love for details comes from my mom. The way she wraps our Christmas gifts, the way she set a table with special place holder for everyone, even the way she tells her stories. Her details are what make it stick. Her details make us want to hear the same story over and over.<br />
<br />
This past weekend we went to my cousin's wedding. It was glorious. In fact, it was a whole weekend of specialness. The touches that someone might zoom past were not lost on me. From the beautiful candles with everyone's name on it to tell their seat, the hand-designed tote bags with the special town places, to the Americana rehearsal dinner with traditional New England Faire - each touch showed how much they care for all of us and their relationship. That is the thing about the details, the littlest things really do mean so much.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS8cds-ukldzST9Ae7LCE5ahAXDHCdJXUcwoG61xOsTsRQxLxwDwE5itieKxc9BSz2qmeydH4a3FAD5JUPNXs4eMt8oEhxeftIYfCrZcNaJT-13ceP2U2GMtbQr-apbrIbxhldO_i2XdU/s1600/DSCF5386.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS8cds-ukldzST9Ae7LCE5ahAXDHCdJXUcwoG61xOsTsRQxLxwDwE5itieKxc9BSz2qmeydH4a3FAD5JUPNXs4eMt8oEhxeftIYfCrZcNaJT-13ceP2U2GMtbQr-apbrIbxhldO_i2XdU/s320/DSCF5386.JPG" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Speaking of details, I have made some changes to my TV room furniture. Please Pottery Barn - do not be jealous! I read other blogs all the time. Crazy pastime. But I love hearing other people's stories. One of my favorites, The Nester, features great home design ideas. Her perfect mantra "It does not have to be perfect to be beautiful" is sitting perfect with me right now. I think I would give her a hug if I met her. She has freed me up. After seeing her great Pottery-Barnesque slipcovers I made my own. I downloaded a great e-book on another great blog and started to move. <br />
<br />
Well ok, I of course, could not make these on my own. My mom made mostly them. I ordered the fabric, prewashed it, helped cut, helped pin, and ordered pizza. It was a blast. And the results are pretty darn amazing if I do say so myself. We did the couch and the ottoman - and we ordered some more fabric to do my over sized chair. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Author's note: when viewing the photo do not get derailed by the unsightly air conditioner. When you live through renovations, you do not get everything at once. (Heat, yes. Central Air, almost yes. Until then AC) </span><br />
<br />
Now onto my next project. I have two bookcases that I am going to paint and distress to put in the playroom. I'll keep you posted....Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-35998404613079957592010-08-06T08:12:00.000-07:002010-08-06T08:12:23.298-07:00Don't Blink<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju0cXbwTF6SkcbZNk5XiSw9bsDQ45Wib_-czdFTANZp5wQ2VRGWosWRmJsLKUxoD2GBcK6v5q12WoAlEqiIsPqK5-gdFfXL6obsuayGA1H2BZRZXPJtfxmqKp-ozg0fzlEeRl3dIkimE8/s1600/maddie+bike..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju0cXbwTF6SkcbZNk5XiSw9bsDQ45Wib_-czdFTANZp5wQ2VRGWosWRmJsLKUxoD2GBcK6v5q12WoAlEqiIsPqK5-gdFfXL6obsuayGA1H2BZRZXPJtfxmqKp-ozg0fzlEeRl3dIkimE8/s320/maddie+bike..jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>This week, our gal hit a milestone when she started riding her bike without training wheels. Michael and the kids took off to the slice o' life corner to take a bike ride in the church parking lot. It was an exciting day for her. <br />
<br />
Michael had removed her training wheels in the morning - knowing that she was ready. I do not know if she knew she was ready. There were not many conversations about being ready. In fact, I do not think there were conversations at all. <br />
<br />
It makes me think this is what happened years and years ago. You just did things. You did not have a whole bunch of conversations about readiness. No conversations about how you are feeling. About making sure you are ok with the decision. Just go. Sometimes it just feels right not to over think your every last move and just go.<br />
<br />
She took off. Michael sent me an email at work. <br />
<br />
"<em>Well, Maddie has taken off the training wheels and if off riding her bike - next stop village after that - look out world. Taking them to beach for a little while. L, M"</em><br />
<br />
Later that night we all went to see Maddie ride her bike. Michael on his big kid bike and Michael and I in tow. Her big brother was so supportive and even showed her some of his moves. Of course, we took a bunch of pictures.<br />
<br />
Today, I was cleaning our family room. I have a spot where a keep some of the mini scrapbooks I have made. The kids love to "take a peek" over and over. I must admit, so do I.<br />
<br />
I stumbled on one I made when we first moved to town. Michael was about 6 months younger than Maddie is now. I was struck by the bike shots. How he has changed. How he has grown from a little boy to a growing boy. How Maddie was not even on a bike. How in front of your eyes life moves very fast. How I, of course, already know this, but sometimes need to be reminded. Don't blink.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs18RHM4WN7B-Q8HhSdDsK2RFLeg4Vv4Ugl48ooZuq4RD53oUEPQ8c8ZjPvWAa4VoOIhdhCuZDbe5WD_iTFKefdUn2VT5hoGac77O2fqas8u-GUKOHciXqS-lBIvc9s7x5TrZ17wFBgnI/s1600/don't+blink.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs18RHM4WN7B-Q8HhSdDsK2RFLeg4Vv4Ugl48ooZuq4RD53oUEPQ8c8ZjPvWAa4VoOIhdhCuZDbe5WD_iTFKefdUn2VT5hoGac77O2fqas8u-GUKOHciXqS-lBIvc9s7x5TrZ17wFBgnI/s320/don't+blink.jpg" /></a></div>Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-78950565508469672062010-07-31T16:01:00.000-07:002010-07-31T16:09:17.759-07:00Ode to Renovations<div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrKRJU0fTi-UoAF9IUaobwghkI_64OThOiY7lBJlWJscrlU0pd_gA69TSn0NAuXT7N_A0_G0QqO1-azc6wkZW8DccPdCXwIXWZ_7hT79rPso2-HQbX99xgnnLKZFzWb2I3O4qBXWc-tE0/s1600/DSCF5186.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrKRJU0fTi-UoAF9IUaobwghkI_64OThOiY7lBJlWJscrlU0pd_gA69TSn0NAuXT7N_A0_G0QqO1-azc6wkZW8DccPdCXwIXWZ_7hT79rPso2-HQbX99xgnnLKZFzWb2I3O4qBXWc-tE0/s320/DSCF5186.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Serious Sink - Almost 6 feet long!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Renovations are taxing. They are exciting and frustrating all at the same time. It is exciting to see progress - but it pulls at you and makes you want to see it complete. You know you should not be feeling that entitled, but you cannot help it. It tests your patience. </div><br />
<div></div>I still look at kitchen and dining room boxes that have yet to be unpacked. Thankfully they are out of sight - or I would have them open and spread out everywhere. I will admit, I am quite convinced, that I will find things I do not need at all - or that I cannot even remember I once owned and frequently used.<br />
<br />
<div>I sound like a broken record. When we started our renovations we did not intend on building our own kitchen. But we kept coming back to the same thing. We are hung up on a kitchen in an old home renovation magazine. Scratch that. I am hung up. And I guess it is fair to say, Michael is a little hung up, too. </div><br />
<div>And because Michael is super talented in the building department and because he has more tools than most people know what to do with - we hit the jackpot! <br />
<br />
We (and with that I mean Michael) are building our kitchen. It may take a little longer but, boy is it worth it.</div><br />
So here we are today. This has been a lesson in the present. Being OK with where you are right now and not focusing on tomorrow or yesterday. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjTLlOiEA2lZ0T_U44a_2nv6ESKGWOUL8I8ioQ3MID0i9vGgBf53JaGD31duc2X90qqc20h0TxXNT7jZG6vuhWfOMpmVH-zE89VTGaq-zinv6i-RminjJDCG0q10c4xpkK_eti6200nkg/s1600/DSCF5187.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjTLlOiEA2lZ0T_U44a_2nv6ESKGWOUL8I8ioQ3MID0i9vGgBf53JaGD31duc2X90qqc20h0TxXNT7jZG6vuhWfOMpmVH-zE89VTGaq-zinv6i-RminjJDCG0q10c4xpkK_eti6200nkg/s320/DSCF5187.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">These are some of the cabinet shells - </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Doors are done but waiting for hardware to arrive from Rockler.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">----------------------------------------------------------------------------------</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">On another note, for those of you who have been reading "my slice" for a while, you may remember the euro slicer (Feb 6, 2010 Only in America posting) </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Well, I have to admit. I broke down. Kinda. Michael and I were in Building 19 - a one of a kind discount store - and they had one. The whole enchilada. The 4 piece deluxe set for $20. Seriously. You know I bought it. I mean really have you ever seen veggies cut this perfect? Though I admit it is hard to clearly see with the distraction of the orange Halloween plastic plate. Just believe me. You can take this infomercial to the bank. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO4frvmKimXhMC4wlX1i7Xw9zMmm8y-vimRH9VEKEP4tIRT4fyiOXPzKp7blbDrN4GKgb8A7_Tjlt-KplpOLxtzNlOy0MRl1upUmqRYzETHfoxBbEFXzpDejvAm9GKk2X9hsFPds3AEUM/s1600/DSCF5165.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO4frvmKimXhMC4wlX1i7Xw9zMmm8y-vimRH9VEKEP4tIRT4fyiOXPzKp7blbDrN4GKgb8A7_Tjlt-KplpOLxtzNlOy0MRl1upUmqRYzETHfoxBbEFXzpDejvAm9GKk2X9hsFPds3AEUM/s320/DSCF5165.JPG" /></a></div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div></div>Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-36308840998504629592010-07-28T17:06:00.000-07:002010-08-06T08:20:00.293-07:00Growth<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYul1GaAKm9jS1UzuP_krTPTUAvRf3lQI2eVRfqzcbqyFJtM66prPvEaUkx-IvOFECNM3ki7Nu3ol39dvSm48qvkyc3iKpUVDh52cug3jU0sifl8VQSpOy8zXUPxKUNDb9lXtpimj8Q6o/s1600/DSCF5028.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499129168745727922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYul1GaAKm9jS1UzuP_krTPTUAvRf3lQI2eVRfqzcbqyFJtM66prPvEaUkx-IvOFECNM3ki7Nu3ol39dvSm48qvkyc3iKpUVDh52cug3jU0sifl8VQSpOy8zXUPxKUNDb9lXtpimj8Q6o/s400/DSCF5028.JPG" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 400px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 300px;" /></a><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWRtB8yALrToP_bv4HMTO8ranoQFgKNjEgaQJqfbEBE0cBrcysFkVfXzsmdzSSmM5VgxcVMUFga6Z53eFZoLc5Tok-NDYI23II8uLp3cI1sXfq4lWEiOh-gvohXirIvEwi1a9xxkWaCkM/s1600/DSCF5028.JPG"></a><br />
<div><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ4cXb3nr73KwCVUDU-SxvyCG6P_ypW0MMrAlvKrA5EQI1jLjRuxiLfHS9MOfDK7lBJ0yKK_dTZBIC78TU4kVdT1ChwcYMreGGtnx5QevInANRQOnBabbt1EGJ1_VCSjRM7i6A42YTSws/s1600/DSCF5028.JPG"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsA3xMwiw806_nUSHvRzYTRY4Gq3UH_df2751ST165WqIkf7mZM-7S1MvOfYvYIIWLSPh641eyMLLZK0pgZGFVBtW3QaT6DmUb1rk-14Q-BYZIyad5XpaR8K3v3MZOZ-YFS5br3KB34Ug/s1600/DSCF5173.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499124960035255826" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsA3xMwiw806_nUSHvRzYTRY4Gq3UH_df2751ST165WqIkf7mZM-7S1MvOfYvYIIWLSPh641eyMLLZK0pgZGFVBtW3QaT6DmUb1rk-14Q-BYZIyad5XpaR8K3v3MZOZ-YFS5br3KB34Ug/s400/DSCF5173.JPG" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 400px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 300px;" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div></div><br />
<br />
<div></div><br />
<br />
<div></div><br />
<br />
<div></div><br />
<br />
<div></div><br />
<br />
<div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><br />
<br />
<br />
One of my favorite things this summer is our garden. So Fresh. So Simple. So Perfect. So Unpredictable and Predictable all at the same time. </div><br />
<div></div><div>I always delight in "harvesting" our vegetables. I am always amazed at the growth. I seems obvious that plants grow. But I get stuck on the miracle of it. How one day there is no tomato - the next I am eating it right off the vine. That the freshest of vegetables are now on our plates. </div><br />
<div>It is the stuff that prayers are made of. Bless us, oh Lord, for these thy gifts we are about to receive through thy bounty through Christ our Lord, Amen. </div><br />
<div>Maybe it is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">because</span> I work in a catholic school and church - and that this blessing is said at every meal, but I feel blessed to have the bounty. I have a spotlight shining on my bounty and how fortunate I am. We are. We are fortunate for the growth. And it goes far beyond the vegetables.</div><br />
<div>The spotlight has shined on a lot of this week. I have had to pause and take a deep breath. I am seeing my own growth <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">amidst</span> a very difficult situation. I have been tested. I am still in the middle of the test. </div><br />
<div>I know in my heart that I will grow. No - this is not life or death, no this is not illness, no this is not my worst day with MS, and Yes, I will get through the valley. Maybe only after I see the gift in it. </div></div></div></div></div>Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-4174645460253929332010-07-24T12:40:00.000-07:002010-07-25T07:46:43.349-07:00Crab Hunters!<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; CLEAR: both" class="separator"><a style="MARGIN-LEFT: 1em; MARGIN-RIGHT: 1em" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6fVqP5Oaq5Vh0Y7etoNDcBfIG_4SYhCUgfrzBcWhTtaiqj4iIJ9WpMpFyDg4NU0kmdorVXFLFlYFzFq5LL761onVXj-W1FmQlKOSR7aZcdglkBsjJFvo0f4x4zsbN2qCDrHUAHLJwvg/s1600/DSCF5152.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6fVqP5Oaq5Vh0Y7etoNDcBfIG_4SYhCUgfrzBcWhTtaiqj4iIJ9WpMpFyDg4NU0kmdorVXFLFlYFzFq5LL761onVXj-W1FmQlKOSR7aZcdglkBsjJFvo0f4x4zsbN2qCDrHUAHLJwvg/s320/DSCF5152.JPG" hw="true" /></a></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; CLEAR: both" class="separator"><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; CLEAR: both" class="separator"></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; CLEAR: both" class="separator"></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; CLEAR: both" class="separator"><a style="MARGIN-LEFT: 1em; MARGIN-RIGHT: 1em" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivnIsA7ucyUL5-vqH-DAx2buhj6hOP7tRViTjxiFnAWsvskp1HN3nM44xvJlaCwFQn_qBGv6K0eqtA79rcvdCv6k4zJeFXACXw3IhY6kqNjPHmGfTYJaYQcvMH3BU_D_8QUUfG6s3mi0k/s1600/DSCF5081.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivnIsA7ucyUL5-vqH-DAx2buhj6hOP7tRViTjxiFnAWsvskp1HN3nM44xvJlaCwFQn_qBGv6K0eqtA79rcvdCv6k4zJeFXACXw3IhY6kqNjPHmGfTYJaYQcvMH3BU_D_8QUUfG6s3mi0k/s320/DSCF5081.JPG" hw="true" /></a></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; CLEAR: both" class="separator"><br /></div>Summer is in full swing! We are blessed with wonderful friends and family and together we have enjoyed many full days of swimming at the beach, boating to the spit, and splashing at the pool. <br /><br />I remember days like this from when I was younger. I spent day after day at the beach with my cousins. We would spend hours hunting for crabs in a large rocky section of the beach in the town I grew up in.<br /><br />We would build crab hospitals - we would search in the tide pools for the perfect location. We would lift up the rocks and hope for the movement of the water underneath - a sign that a crab was burying itself further in the sand. As if that would stop our young hands from grabbing it.<br /><br />When we got one we would keep it in the tide pool and we would feed the little fella mussels that we would smash open with rocks.<br /><br />I can still remember the feeling of the rocks on my feet. The excitement of walking out on the rocks and the slight fear as I wobbled on a seaweed rock. Gripping the rock with my feet to keep steady and avoid a fall. The anticipation of lifting - almost prying up the rock - and looking for the perfect crab. The joy of calling out to the cousins that we found one. <br /><br />My kids are at the "crab hunter" stage. They get as excited now as I did when I was younger to find and pick up the perfect crab. <br /><br />And though we go to a different beach now, they have found "their rocks" - they have found their special place of building castles, searching for crabs, and enjoying the ocean. I still get excited when I hear them call. I almost feel that Melissa or Ricky, my cousins, will pop up to see for themselves and join in on the fun. <br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; CLEAR: both" class="separator"></div>In a few weeks we will have that joy. The next generation of cousins will be in town to celebrate our cousin's wedding. We will hopefully have a day at the beach - and our kids will share great times together just like the joy and fun the older set shared. <br /><br />I look forward to laughing and sharing our stories. And I am happy they will have the chance to build their own "cousin stories" as I know first-hand how important they are and how much they fill your soul.Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-32100632756670605252010-07-02T04:25:00.000-07:002010-07-02T04:25:33.899-07:00Summer is Officially Here!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw1_ZyDcQJQYAhyI2TwLJws55Iwhy81waNz3OmpxLLcOxpvsyphm8zJJzzv6EzweVVRwGi3XD2MpD6BisChPbX7EycG1rhdIv4DV9mwNWMmS3-CNFF6G193ArJEUNpYl3qeTwE3BN1dvM/s1600/DSCF9660.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw1_ZyDcQJQYAhyI2TwLJws55Iwhy81waNz3OmpxLLcOxpvsyphm8zJJzzv6EzweVVRwGi3XD2MpD6BisChPbX7EycG1rhdIv4DV9mwNWMmS3-CNFF6G193ArJEUNpYl3qeTwE3BN1dvM/s320/DSCF9660.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"Star Spangled Cake!!!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Summer has come in like a lion. The weather is perfect. Sun, clouds, slight breeze. These are my favorite days. I don't love it when it is overly humid - it feels really crummy on my legs. Thankfully, we will be sunny and breezy this glorious 4th of July Holiday weekend!<br />
<br />
We have fun plans this weekend. Tonight we are boating with our dear friends to see the fireworks in a neighboring town. And tomorrow we are celebrating the holiday at a cookout at the same dear friends home. They are the most wonderful family. They have blessed our life with friendship. True. Friendship. It is not often that you connect with a whole family. We became friends when our kiddos were in Kindergarten together. They are now entering 4th grade. Time is passing too fast. I am happy to share these passes with them. <br />
<br />
My friend is an inspiration. She can tackle everything. She can plant a bunch of trees, grow a beautiful garden, make a gourmet meal, raise a big family, and still have time to put herself together to turn heads.We have laughed so hard sometimes my sides hurt. I am looking forward to heralding in this wonderful American holiday with them all. <br />
<br />
And I would be remiss if I did not mention the "Star-Spangled" Cake she makes. All of the children gather around and sing the "Star-Spangled Banner". Does not get more American than that. And of course, I am crying. Well tearing. I don't want to make a scene with the cry Oprah coined "the ugly cry."<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5zURIjaGudq6k0F8CYP1gZXrQk0S8YByTUN3SIVI_3_x7ihqfUJVQgs3JJwFWVLytmlqtVE4koBuI47dESOvIRbk2PuuAmuEphpFR1o4qPivZWTD3y9bGhXwmxckCm77el4idimBgt8w/s1600/DSCF3576.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5zURIjaGudq6k0F8CYP1gZXrQk0S8YByTUN3SIVI_3_x7ihqfUJVQgs3JJwFWVLytmlqtVE4koBuI47dESOvIRbk2PuuAmuEphpFR1o4qPivZWTD3y9bGhXwmxckCm77el4idimBgt8w/s320/DSCF3576.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Oh, and speaking of American, my guy is playing baseball this year. He played in the spring and is now on a Friendship Travel Team. It has been fun watching him grow and take on this new challenge with such enthusiasm and drive. He has pitched. I have watched with my eyes half shielded by my spread fingers but wide enough so a can see his smile and leg lift when tossing the ball. In case you are wondering, I remove my hands when he is not pitching. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That makes me sound very competitive. Not in the sports arena. As long as my kiddos have fun, do their best and be team players, I feel that they have already won. I win when they have the courage to get in the game. To me, that is what it is all about.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here's wishing everyone a Happy 4th! I should probably get more followers since I will be able to tell you all this in person. And even though you ALL are enough - my goal for the second half of the year is to get some advertisers on the blog. Who wouldn't want to share in this slice o'life?</div>Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-41879453916286411762010-06-19T17:49:00.000-07:002010-06-20T02:36:29.148-07:00What a Day!I typically carry my camera with me. Today - on this beautiful day full o'activities I did not have it. And I felt it. I caught myself thinking about it. How it would be great to capture these moments. <br />
<br />
I started the day early at an appointment. Up and out before the crew even got up. I then cleaned a little and put away laundry. Ok, no need for the camera. <br />
<br />
My mom, Maddie and I then went to the Arts Festival in town. I filled my soul as I reconnected with two people that have truly made a difference in my life. <br />
<br />
I first bumped into a woman I met right after college graduation. She was running for State Senate and I volunteered to work on her campaign. The energy of her grass roots campaign electrified me. I connected with young college grads with the same goal to get this woman into office. I saw first-hand a bright woman who had her share of adversity in her life go for it. She was strong in her convictions, smart, educated on the issues, and she was not afraid to take a stand. She did not win. But it confirmed what I learned from my parents.<br />
<br />
I grew up in a family that recognized the importance of participation. Of volunteering. Of stepping up. My parents to this day serve on many boards between them. I don't remember them ever missing a voting day. And though I do not ever remember a time that they told me to participate - they did not need to - they led by example.<br />
<br />
I then bumped into a woman near and dear to my heart. I first met this woman when I worked at Talbots Corporate Headquarters. I was young. She took the time to listen. And she probably does not even know, she inspired me. She was professional and positive, caring and true to herself<br />
<br />
Flash forward many years later, we moved to the same town she lives in. I was able to reconnect with her. I delighted seeing her in the grocery store. Even for a minute. A little laugh in the aisles. <br />
<br />
She is the head of the garden club in town. When my Michael started 3rd grade, I was delighted to see that she offered a Junior Gardener's Club at his school. Michael loves to plant, so it was a natural fit for him to join.<br />
<br />
In the Spring, she was travelling with her husband and she got into a very bad accident. The kind that makes the Today Show. Her dear husband, another wonderful person, did not make it. It was not certain whether she would. She did. She spent months in the hospital states away from here. The entire community prayed for her and the family. She proved to be one of the strongest women I know.<br />
<br />
My dear son wrote her a note. I was not sure if I should send it at first. I did not want her to be upset. He wrote it all on his own and it was truly from the heart. He said - and now as the months have passed - it still gets me. "I am sorry for your loss. I know what it feels like, my dog died in November. I am here for you. Love, Michael"<br />
<br />
I sent it because it was so pure. When I saw her today I asked if she got it. She said it brought her laughter and tears - because it was so true and so from the heart. It meant the world to her. I hope she knows she means the world to so many.<br />
<br />
And finally, in this long-winded post we had a great beach and boating day! How spoiled are we in this town straight out of a novel! We are watching our friends sons tonight and they offered to let us use their boat. Perfect weather to load the kids in the boat and take the brief ride to my favorite beach, Open to so many beautiful surroundings. Yet private as you have to arrive by boat. The space is between the town I grew up in and the town I currently live in.<br />
<br />
It is directly near the place my grandfather and I used to go clamming. I clearly remember digging for clams with him for the big clambake he used to have at their home. The memories are vivid. So close to the surface. Of all days, today was the anniversary of his funeral eleven years ago. Easy to remember as it falls on my grandmother's birthday. Today she is 91. <br />
<br />
I sat there on the beach thinking what a great day for photos, yet I did not even know how I would capture it. <br />
<br />
I stopped and took mental pictures. The sea grass blowing in the breeze. My son and his friend skipping rocks. My daughter eating watermelon. I even flashed back to some pictures in my mind. I wondered what my picture would look like today. Would it be the ten year old clamming or the thirty nine year old watching her family run in the sand? Today I am going with the clamming.Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-1594212118042200362010-06-09T13:56:00.000-07:002010-06-09T14:02:30.318-07:00The Middle<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73YJccQz9UzQhb2FhnWjjfhFhSlyDeo1LQT4IuuE6z2XNb9DXFcM4lvR287JNZEBXPPHmHMP0refsF3wflqw4MQsCJjmujgw9y7VKXIsj15KEy-Z-YkXOK-iTNcvwwShKPIkf9MtBZ_c/s1600/DSCF8768.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj73YJccQz9UzQhb2FhnWjjfhFhSlyDeo1LQT4IuuE6z2XNb9DXFcM4lvR287JNZEBXPPHmHMP0refsF3wflqw4MQsCJjmujgw9y7VKXIsj15KEy-Z-YkXOK-iTNcvwwShKPIkf9MtBZ_c/s320/DSCF8768.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>I grew up in an Italian family. Well, ok, I didn't. Limbacher is hardly Italian. But I grew up WITH an Italian family - and I am sticking to it. <br />
<br />
In third grade, I met my sister. As an only child, I got family and siblings from many different sources - cousins, friends, sorority sisters. A new girl, Robyn, had just moved to town and I invited her over. Her mom dropped her off. To this day, her mom tells us how crazy she thought it was that she dropped her daughter off to someone she did not know at all - we could have been axe-murderers.<br />
<br />
Our friendship started in third grade and has continued to this day. She would hate to admit it - but we are turning forty this year. She says she is not - that she stayed back - she is only thirty nine. I say her math is still off but she did have me laughing a lot.<br />
<br />
Our moms became sisters, too. Through the ups and downs that life has thrown to all of us, our friendships have endured. We now watch our kids start their friendship. We laugh at the same stories over and over. I do not care how many times I hear the "I am from the state of Cape Cod" story or the "I could never eat 8 slices of pizza - cut it in 6 slices" story - I still laugh.<br />
<br />
I thought it was the coolest thing to have a cousin Vinny. I could never get enough of the arguing around the dinner table. I thought the commotion was perfect. I loved being in the middle of it all. My Italian family was larger than life.<br />
<br />
This week, we said good bye to the matriarch of the family. A glorious woman who lived to be almost 102 years. She was strong in her heart and soul - and she loved her family more than anything, It is evident. It carries on.<br />
<br />
We gathered all together to celebrate her life. So much in all of our lives has changed. The kids have grown up. Babies have been born. Kids are now teenagers. Some marriages have made it - some have not. But despite it all, we all gathered together. It was like old times - but now - clearly new times.<br />
<br />
Even though I wish there was a different reason for being there, I feel blessed. Blessed to be a part of this family. Blessed that my mom and I have been included in their moments and their lives. I hope that they know how much they all mean to me. Though I would never trade all that I have and all that my family means, I know that I do not need to. I am blessed to have both.<br />
<br />
So as I sit here and remember the past few days, I cry a little. Happy and sad cry. Wish things didn't change cry. Happy that they do cry. I think about how many moments in her 102 years that Bobbie must have been happy to be with the family laughing, loving, and just being together. How amidst all of the changes, the ties that bind are still strong. That being in the middle of it is indeed perfect.Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-2623314321392377602010-06-07T17:19:00.000-07:002010-06-07T17:23:35.332-07:00Sayin' It Out Loud<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhECIg3oRtTpRKYIL6QYKYtEviTl7J2z_lBMJ1brISnxUqOMYOpUJ0uvhv3tDgulJleXSrMcAGgO5QmtXwk5kgJ75rYNSacTkYKS3AFkn91AZwWwtqm1xJgO2fxhhgGFlMYltI6SAEYesQ/s1600/pettis+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhECIg3oRtTpRKYIL6QYKYtEviTl7J2z_lBMJ1brISnxUqOMYOpUJ0uvhv3tDgulJleXSrMcAGgO5QmtXwk5kgJ75rYNSacTkYKS3AFkn91AZwWwtqm1xJgO2fxhhgGFlMYltI6SAEYesQ/s320/pettis+2.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I often step back and think of what it must be like for other people with me having MS. I know. Silly. As if I do not have enough on my plate, I often think about how MS impacts the people around me.<br />
<br />
When I was a little girl, we belonged to a pool in town. Every day in summer, we would go to the pool until what felt like evening. It was a blast. I still have great memories of full days of sunning and swimming. <br />
<br />
There was a family who belonged to the pool with a mom with MS. I did not know what MS was - I was a young girl. I remember being sad as I watched this woman deteriorate into a wheel chair. I remember hearing grown-ups say MS - not even knowing what they meant and having no idea that I would ever know MS.<br />
<br />
Forward, almost 20 years later, and I was diagnosed with MS. I have to admit my head went right to this woman. I don't even know if I was fearful of becoming that woman, or fearful because I would never want anyone to be sad for me. As I type, I still do not know. <br />
<br />
I do know that I have thought of her many, many times in the last 13 years. I remember when I first started doing daily shots, I used to say to myself "I will swim." After I had kids, I started saying, "I will swim with my kids" as the needle stuck.<br />
<br />
I don't think she would be offended. Even though she could not swim, she has offered me strength. She showed up. She was not afraid to go to the pool. She did not stay home. At the time, there were not therapies to keep her swimming, running, or dancing. Maybe her course would have responded to the current therapies that I take.<br />
<br />
Tonight, I finished a video I made for work. I made a video for the graduating eighth grade class. It took me HOURS. A whole lot of hours. I put the video on my TV to have a final viewing. I could not help but dance. My kids and I danced. I did the "Limbacher-Jig" as my Kappa sisters would say. I even tried some of the new cool moves I am too old to know.<br />
<br />
My daughter said "You are a good dancer!" <br />
I said "Thanks!" <br />
She then said "You are a good dancer for someone with MS" I half-laughed. She is 6. <br />
<br />
I thought I have more work to do. <br />
<br />
I have to teach her, through my actions, what MS does and does not mean. That is does not mean you have to stop doing the "Limbacher-Jig" <br />
<br />
That is does mean you should make more time to do the "Limbacher-Jig" because you can! <br />
<br />
It means I should not set limits. It means I should talk more about MS with my kids. As open as I am, it means I need to share more. I need to calm the little fears, in all of us, that creep up. I need to show up. <br />
<br />
As I sit here, my daughter pops in and says "Limbacher-Jig - that rocks!" At this moment, I am just a good dancer who can swim with her kids. And that is enough.Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-29452690882514374312010-06-03T16:32:00.000-07:002010-06-03T18:30:02.128-07:00Garden Party<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGUNkK0uXneaRMBb1RGQV5JdsPgtCZQconI0-XNBkJKssH6EDs8Ex14URKh6jn5lulSxQ71ZFSXzd6RGe2jxpNKAeIB4wKzc1EF0PywgkiorkWTClhTePhY6l0MKzvvhFYt7pMda2khSU/s1600/DSCF3843.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGUNkK0uXneaRMBb1RGQV5JdsPgtCZQconI0-XNBkJKssH6EDs8Ex14URKh6jn5lulSxQ71ZFSXzd6RGe2jxpNKAeIB4wKzc1EF0PywgkiorkWTClhTePhY6l0MKzvvhFYt7pMda2khSU/s320/DSCF3843.JPG" /></a></div><br />
This year, we are determined to have a garden. When we lived in our old house we had raised garden beds filled with vegetables. The peppers were HUGE and the tomatoes were fantastic. There is nothing like the feeling of making a tomato sandwich with a freshly picked tomato.<br />
<br />
So, after being in this home three years, Michael decided to move forward and build a raised bed and start planting. Michael along with his trusty helpers, Michael and Maddie, picked out a huge variety of vegetables. Some that I did not even know existed! <br />
<br />
As you can see he positioned the garden in the back of the house in front the back wall that is not finished. Great sunny spot - and close enough to the house that we will not have deer munching on our salad!<br />
<br />
I know it is just a garden, but in many ways it is another example of our family getting back to the basics. We needed to get back to the basics. This year, we have been tested at times. Boy, have we been tested. But the simple act of being together and watching Michael and the kids plant and care for the garden is rooting our family deeper than any tomato plant.Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-28520917612449531222010-05-23T14:26:00.000-07:002010-05-27T03:32:27.724-07:00THE Kitchen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeDMRMWJzzPgM1sAkUhyklJO7OYuf9RaUZ9UzJKTF5dLKos5-e1PLf-OAXIOsWqgBHh-0eokaeGkCSu3U9Ea3p0ZB80MDpFIodgn9CT3nKs2bXuhe2VdbIIWP4GEWU2xS_otCZTIEViNM/s1600/kitchen-base-iii.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeDMRMWJzzPgM1sAkUhyklJO7OYuf9RaUZ9UzJKTF5dLKos5-e1PLf-OAXIOsWqgBHh-0eokaeGkCSu3U9Ea3p0ZB80MDpFIodgn9CT3nKs2bXuhe2VdbIIWP4GEWU2xS_otCZTIEViNM/s320/kitchen-base-iii.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCflgnKZThFGBOREI85O0P7k1bVN8f3KKrqTwJJ9EsOT7WEwfHORI39j1TM24M8MQpYB3D0Kwlx0WaBhPJQU8RX-6dy8AArHGm2obogxnnCF9iHsSVxYAMi0buQqRcJNKJad329lLqDTk/s1600/kitchen-profile-base-ii.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCflgnKZThFGBOREI85O0P7k1bVN8f3KKrqTwJJ9EsOT7WEwfHORI39j1TM24M8MQpYB3D0Kwlx0WaBhPJQU8RX-6dy8AArHGm2obogxnnCF9iHsSVxYAMi0buQqRcJNKJad329lLqDTk/s320/kitchen-profile-base-ii.jpg" /></a></div>There are a few plus sides to Michael being out of work. Give me a few minutes and I will get one. No, truthfully, all joking aside, this has been a good time in our lives. It is nice to see him being him. He is able to breathe again. And, between looking for a new job, he is building our kitchen. <br />
<br />
Not everyone builds their own kitchen. In fact, I cannot even count on one hand the number of people I know who have. My grandfather - my Dad's Dad. There. End of list. <br />
<br />
In my mind, Michael building our kitchen is so obvious. It feels like a "right of passage" in this home. It feels like we are honoring the families that came before us. And, most importantly, he knows what he is doing - and we know what we want.<br />
<br />
Let me be clear..this is NOT something I would recommend. I would not tell my friends this is a great idea. I would not be shouting "go for it" to anyone. Too long, too stressful, too many decisions. There are much easier ways to get the job done.<br />
<br />
So here it is SO FAR! Not done, but getting done. <br />
<br />
The cornerstone, I think, is our vintage Munson Slate sink (see previous post). We saw this sink at an antique/renovation home store years ago. We called the next day to see if we could get it and it was gone. Gone in the way you want it so bad and cannot believe you did not even have the chance to want it so bad.<br />
<br />
The seed had been planted. Michael scoured the internet and found one in New Hampshire at a romantic antique joint "City Girl in the Country." So Michael loaded Maddie in the car and they set off to get the sink. Hours later, the sink had arrived home and we knew it would be the foundation for our space. <br />
<br />
Our inspiration for the space comes from a renovation magazine I have looked at so many times I can practically guess what is in their cupboards. We are building an antique red kitchen - and I am in so deep that there is no turning back. It may not be the choice for everyone, but it makes sense in this space. Real good sense.<br />
<br />
We have recruited "cheap labor" as my Dad calls himself. Grape soda is all it takes to draw him in. He used to ask me if we were going to "flip" this house. I say, we are way past the flip stage - that is for tv shows on HGTV. I actually think my Dad likes helping as much as we like having him help. And if he doesn't, he does a darn good job of acting like he does. <br />
<br />
The funny thing is at every stage it feels like it has always been like this. When another thing gets finished there are no fireworks shooting off, no fanfare. The upper cabinets look great flanking the sink, and the oven has already baked a mean flour-less chocolate cake. The transitions that could have felt awkward seamlessly change. It is a lesson far beyond the kitchen. Life moves, things change, make it seamless, don't get caught up in it, breathe.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYPXDmPzZgzE9MpIDjit3DiMIis95BcmVIdBa_nsNwCur-NXBS0RoQHmL_yfxvB-TCEWAsaFmD1-DmaF2XmMdS6f0JjS52cBv7Zgo-6C22gL9XTj7DbfaX-2zPk8_ezB7GCk3wQc4ykiI/s1600/kitchen-furniture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYPXDmPzZgzE9MpIDjit3DiMIis95BcmVIdBa_nsNwCur-NXBS0RoQHmL_yfxvB-TCEWAsaFmD1-DmaF2XmMdS6f0JjS52cBv7Zgo-6C22gL9XTj7DbfaX-2zPk8_ezB7GCk3wQc4ykiI/s320/kitchen-furniture.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Our antique hoosier cabinet we bought last year from an estate sale sits in the front part of the kitchen</div>Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-69012732608355520522010-05-23T09:59:00.000-07:002010-05-23T14:17:23.214-07:00Walk away from the CRAZY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVr6rVGGx4kghsRDOxbJImXM_RLXfVsMKDfR8k7c8MBbVSOfj_IONz_pEGynws0Uynk-eGM5UUjp2sEOW__YUOF0J8rWrb1727V4VL-0WuW8bg-Pe1D08pez5VMh6QWyT9LPxWP1yDs7w/s1600/DSCF3253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVr6rVGGx4kghsRDOxbJImXM_RLXfVsMKDfR8k7c8MBbVSOfj_IONz_pEGynws0Uynk-eGM5UUjp2sEOW__YUOF0J8rWrb1727V4VL-0WuW8bg-Pe1D08pez5VMh6QWyT9LPxWP1yDs7w/s320/DSCF3253.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">OK, this has nothing to do with this post</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">but here is a sneak peek at our sink</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">There is a lot more built - next post</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">KITCHEN UPDATE!!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>It has been a long week. Between work, kids, home, and sports it has been a lot to keep straight. Then throw in a visit from a favorite MS friend, optic neuritis. It makes the challenging more challenging. It makes me have to choose. Time to choose between the events and priorities that I can't miss or I will be sad and those that I need to miss and will be sad. The choices are not easy.<br />
<br />
It is difficult to explain optic neuritis. My eye hurts - 24/7 - when I wake up it hurts, when I go to bed it hurts, and in between it hurts. It hurts when I move it and it hurts when I don't. The vision is off. When isolated the colors are markedly different. It is almost like there is a grey screen over the eye and I get a blurry half glimpse of the true technicolor. But eyes are funny. They compensate for one another. So when both are working the differences and losses are not as obvious. I think that is true of many things. We compensate. I do more because I can. And I pray that they day does not come when I can't.<br />
<br />
The kicker to make it better is that I have to go on a lot of steroids. Not the easiest. They make it difficult to sleep - a lot of late night tivo watching! They make it easy to cry - a good amount of teary moments. And they make it easy to get annoyed - a fine amount of cut it out you are bugging me moments! But they make it better. So I take the bad with the good.<br />
<br />
I missed a fun, crazy reunion with my Kappa sisters this weekend. Thirteen years after graduation, these events are even more special as we not only remember the past but catch up on the present. I will have to wait until next time. I saw my son hit a double in baseball and my daughter run on the soccer field. Those things can't wait until next time. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I received a call this week from a woman whose child goes to my daughter's school. She asked if she upset me because I was not my "usual friendly" the last time I saw her. If truth be told - I cannot actually remember who she is. I have to be at events with hundreds of parents and kids as chair of our PSO. Believe it or not, I don't remember everyone. 99% yes. 1% no. She is in the 1% no category. She may not have made an impact in person, but her call certainly did. She was right. I am usually very friendly. I also know that I am very thankful and appreciative and very hands-on. I was taken back. About the same time as her call, the planets aligned and my steroids kicked in. Yes, she made me cry. I cried because I know I was not unfriendly to anyone - even the gal I cannot remember. Maybe she did not know all that I have been going through. Maybe she did not even care to know.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I have run her call in my head over and over. I have decided to walk away from the crazy. Her crazy reminded me that we cannot judge someone without walking in their shoes. We cannot put expectations on other people - A lesson I sometimes have to be reminded of. And we cannot put expectations on our self.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I am not usually good at walking away. In fact, I don't remember a time that I have walked away. This time I must to be true to myself.</div>Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-40493707429530743942010-05-16T15:24:00.000-07:002010-05-16T15:31:30.466-07:00Snack Closet<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIK4HZlK1Xr1JIgiLD5p-SHHUtWcNvwhpak-I3Ahl9XHD9EFk3lg-ObaxEXu7SCRNsIYjQ0FCz2VzQPX16v0XGM41u0NYkPYB2LsVseWIAuUtvX_bcsxdNvyaPfrUW8u9LlofjnMGtRHU/s1600/DSCF3578.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIK4HZlK1Xr1JIgiLD5p-SHHUtWcNvwhpak-I3Ahl9XHD9EFk3lg-ObaxEXu7SCRNsIYjQ0FCz2VzQPX16v0XGM41u0NYkPYB2LsVseWIAuUtvX_bcsxdNvyaPfrUW8u9LlofjnMGtRHU/s320/DSCF3578.JPG" wt="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Maybe our home has been under renovation so long that the not-so-normal is oh-so normal. Michael caught this moment when Michael and Maddie were out on the deck having a popsicle. It is not every house that staging is a place to hang out!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And speaking of moments, I have mentioned that we have had a kitchenette in part of our home while the main kitchen is under construction. Our kitchenette is a small room with our washer and dryer, refrigerator, double sink, cabinets, counters, microwave and a variety of important appliances - a foreman grill, skillet, griddle, and toaster oven. The appliances that Amercian's can't live without. I often think, while I am doing the dishes by hand, that this would be a luxury-size space if I had an apartment in NYC. That is the dream - and I am sticking to it!</div><br />
So Michael's friend comes over to play last week. It is a rainy day and the two boys are having a mad Mario wii tournament. They are munching on bag snacks - the ultimate kiddy treat! His adorable friends says to me..."Can I have another bag of Doritos from the snack closet?" I burst out laughing! Seriously, a snack closet! How funny to think that this little guy will go home and say - you will not believe they have a snack closet! All this time I have been thinking this kitchenette would be a hit in NYC - and it took a 9 year old to bring me to reality - I have been feeding my family out of a closet!<br />
<br />
Thank god the real kitchen in going to be bigger than the closet! Worth the wait.....Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-19102770496692842522010-04-10T15:29:00.000-07:002010-04-10T15:36:40.422-07:00Dear Maddie,<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4lY_gpbqYR96rrQvbJ00D-D2QIot6sF7g5C6Lvd6dgvIMwyftIq51xXTi0WJoGTgKtT9E8J0U7VC88RRPRW5sH-JZ2jKt0YMCv64ygIr1HKz4pNDvEBoOl79Br65b_WxjiyM7Tha5RIY/s1600/DSCF3080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4lY_gpbqYR96rrQvbJ00D-D2QIot6sF7g5C6Lvd6dgvIMwyftIq51xXTi0WJoGTgKtT9E8J0U7VC88RRPRW5sH-JZ2jKt0YMCv64ygIr1HKz4pNDvEBoOl79Br65b_WxjiyM7Tha5RIY/s320/DSCF3080.JPG" wt="true" /></a></div><br />
I wrote my daughter a note today. I could have been writing it to myself. Today was her first day of soccer. For all of the bravado this little gal has - she sometimes has a hard time. Kinda like me. <br />
<br />
It started out this morning. She was crying and scared to start soccer. We did not force her to play. In fact, she asked us to play. Many of her friends play. We sat out the Fall session and opted for a Spring start. The disadvantage is that she is joining an existing team. We picked up her uniform this morning when Michael was playing. She came home and excitedly got herself dressed. I thought it was going to be fine. It started out fine. <br />
<br />
She started the practice drills - she got a ball in the face. It went downhill. Like crazy glue that will not peel off your fingers, Maddie clung to me with tears streaming down her face. <br />
<br />
Her coaches were fantastic. Her brother was so super supportive. Her entourage of fans - my mom, dad, Michael, Michael and I all tried to work magic and calm her down.<br />
<br />
It would have been easy to leave. I felt it was not ok to leave. I told Maddie she did not have to play. She did not have to have fun. But she did have to support her team. As long as she was here - with her red shirt on - she was to support her team. She could stay on the side lines - but she needed to be there for the team. I told her we would come back each week so she could support her team - and when she was ready...if she was ready..she could join the game. <br />
<br />
It broke my heart. I could have been telling myself - you do not need to go to the overnight gymnastics camp, you do not need to go to the 4H weekend, you do not need to go to the 8th grade dance with Mark what's his name - but you might, just might, miss out on some fun. I could be telling myself - if you think this is scary get ready because soccer is the least of your worries. So kick now with all of your strength - to show you have it in you for the real challenges.<br />
<br />
Try as they might - she did not want to go in the game. But right towards the end - the coach's daughter Maddie came up to my Maddie. She said "Hi Mini Maddie, it's ok." This adorable 3rd grade girl made my Maddie smile. The coach allowed his Maddie to take my Maddie on the field. They held hands and ran together and kicked the ball. My daughter - though she could not realize it - had a glimpse of her future Maddie-self being strong. This 3rd grade Maddie showed me a strength I did not have at that age. I am thankful for her today. She finished the game and the coaches had her lead the line of handshakes. <br />
<br />
I came home and wrote me gal a note. I put it on her bed where she would find it. It may seem beyond her years - but she is beyond her years. She carries a lot in her heart - like me - and I know that it is a lot sometimes. She read the note all by herself - and she thanked me. Not once, but many times. I did not do it for thanks - I did it because I know how she feels. I know how scary it is to be brave and fearful all at the same time.<br />
<br />
<br />
<em>My dear Maddie,</em><br />
<em><br />
</em><br />
<em>I am proud of you for trying today. Sometimes things are scary - but real courage comes from trying and getting in the game. All my love, Mom xoxo</em>Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-59117151268242314062010-04-03T16:15:00.000-07:002010-04-03T16:15:30.775-07:00Happy Easter - almost<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7sqccnV1oV7gjxSlbO7UEz-KZSVt403Qkyy4okW5zCFCgoz8gINJG5Yi6semA7d7jrxRpF_QRQMMEE0igHlyhcgVOYHOascb136H-hkmnSRZtEQh1EoyXj90AURYpAnC_KHILsx3nFx4/s1600/DSCF2944.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7sqccnV1oV7gjxSlbO7UEz-KZSVt403Qkyy4okW5zCFCgoz8gINJG5Yi6semA7d7jrxRpF_QRQMMEE0igHlyhcgVOYHOascb136H-hkmnSRZtEQh1EoyXj90AURYpAnC_KHILsx3nFx4/s320/DSCF2944.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Easter Egg Roll - 2010</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The minute Maddie sees the Bunny she pops her shades on like she is on the red carpet.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Happy Easter! Big news on the cake front..This Takes the Cake has been taken over by The Cake Spot. As you know, I am a cake person...we are a cake family. My mom found out about the new cake place when she was driving by. She decided to order a cake for us as part of our Easter celebration. She tried to make it a surprise but decided to tell. She loves surprises - but also thrills in telling the surprise - so it is sometimes a half surprise. Sometimes I am not sure if I am still supposed to act surprised. It is as much fun watching her joy as it is having my own.<br />
<br />
My mom went to pick up the cake before Easter. My phone rang. She called to tell me about the cake. I am not sure if she was adhering to Oprah's no phone zone pledge or if the cake was just so shocking to her that she decided to pull over and call. I am going with the cake was too shocking.<br />
<br />
I know. Cake is cake - right? Not really. I do not want to trivialize this but cake means different things to different people. My mom gets flashed back to her New Bedford days. Of her dog Saxie sneaking the surprise cake under the dining room table. Of birthday celebrations, creme horns, and memories of her old whaling home on Pope Street. Of birthday celebrations and family. Of cousins and laughter.<br />
<br />
None of those celebrations had kelly green frosting (yes, her words!) and orange and yellow frosting writing a wild version of Happy Easter! None of those cakes had roses in florescent. None of those cakes looked like a Mexican Pinata.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Tomorrow we will eat the "new" cake. We might miss our old cake. We might in our hearts, by reminded of other celebrations that we have enjoyed cake together. And deep inside, we just might feel sad that you can never go back...and we may realize it is much more than cake. <br />
<br />
Happy Easter!Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-58571722863093770442010-03-30T13:56:00.000-07:002010-03-30T13:56:16.653-07:00Traditions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigr38ZxPz6QHxyZw2ygWFbgEEP-nwOoa_qmGhhBR8r-3h7RIJBtzxQxECJzdXHq6WI34VxCZeh-zbPoUDPGBaXznwuqri4cIuQk37Br4lOMLN_vKTxHCOK9-MmwUmjK640lLVXVPyRluY/s1600/DSCF0344.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigr38ZxPz6QHxyZw2ygWFbgEEP-nwOoa_qmGhhBR8r-3h7RIJBtzxQxECJzdXHq6WI34VxCZeh-zbPoUDPGBaXznwuqri4cIuQk37Br4lOMLN_vKTxHCOK9-MmwUmjK640lLVXVPyRluY/s320/DSCF0344.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Flashback - Easter 2008</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>I love traditions. I love the feeling of the familiar and the comfort of the known. Today, I went to the mother of all traditions. As part of my job I was able to go to the annual Chrism Mass at the Cathederal in Boston. <br />
<br />
My job did not start out as this. It started as Development Director for a Catholic elementary school - I now work in the parish as well. I am spread too thin in my life. I tackle the Capital Campaign and issues that I had no idea about before I started. I joke with myself that I have been thrust into the DiVinci Code. I laugh because no amount of church going prepares you for the climate and culture of the church. <br />
<br />
But today I was included in the Chrism Mass. I did not know anything about this Mass. I did not know the beauty of the Cathederal - that it is one of the largest in the world. I did not know - until our tour after - that there is a cross with pieces from Jesus' actual cross. The cross. It is difficult to not get swept up in the power of the tradition - even if it is not your tradition - when you are at this kind of celebration. <br />
<br />
I was surrounded by music bouncing off the arches. Amidst all of the tradition, the Cardinal was timely and relevent in his homily. He moved me. I was in the moment - but also far away. I was swept into my own traditions. The stuffing we have every Thanksgiving, the Easter Egg Roll we attend every year, the frosting we get on our birthday cakes with roses "all around," the initiation to Kappa as a young college girl. I was swept away but firmly planted in today. <br />
<br />
I thought of the traditions I am sharing with my children. The laughter of family stories from New Bedford shared with the cousins - told so many times even the kids could tell them now. The beach days, the blindfolded cousin adventures...I could go on. How the newest generation needs to hold them as close as I do.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>As I head into the holiday weekend - I am casting aside all that I am feeling overworked, overworrried, and overthinking. I am going to be caught up in the tradition...and thankfully that means cake with frosting and lots of laughter!Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-656527485418317290.post-42338252491818900892010-02-06T15:33:00.000-08:002010-02-06T15:33:16.541-08:00Only in AmericaI had a busy day today - and it is still going on. Today our kitchen is getting plastered - This is a BIG deal. We have not has a full kitchen for 3 years. We have what I like to refer to as a New York City Kitchen. That is the romantic name I give my small space with a sink, fridge, toaster over, crockpot, griddle, foreman grill, washer and dryer. There is no oven and no dishwaher. I have the hands to prove it. <br />
<br />
Today I got up early to go to an appointment, get coal for the coal stove, and get a cake. Since our bakery deserted us (see post in October!) I have to find a new one. Today I decided to hit BJ's. Not my smartest moment, since the Superbowl is tomorrow and the crowds needed to get jumbo packages of doritos and salsa and corn dogs. <br />
<br />
At BJ's they made an announcememt, "attention BJ shoppers..." at that point I should have stopped listening. "at the end of aisle 15 we are giving away free peelers!!" So my cart takes a immediate detour to aisle 15. I cannot even believe I wanted a free peeler. I find it even funnier that about 40 people wanted a free peeler. But as anything free goes, there is always a catch. And since I was 1 - tired, 2 - without kids, and 3 - interested - I decided to join the crowd. <br />
<br />
The suave speaker told us all about the Euro slicer and how it will change your life. I learned how to have the best french fries, cry-free onions, and perfectly even tomato slices. I totally bought into it. I wanted slaw and I wanted to make it with ease. I found myself thinking of all of the things I could make. I was going to be very impressive. A regular "Fancy Nancy" in my new kitchen.<br />
<br />
Then, I started laughing. I started really laughing. The kind of laugh that got me kicked out of Yoga. I thought of the Euro slicer and the fact I was quite certain that there were no old ladies in villages in Europe waiting for their butcher and their freshly cut meat or their produce from the farm stand ooogling over a Euro slicer. Only in America would we stand around with our mouths open watching a man in a slick suit peel carrots and slice cucumbers - and then we would grab the package so we can peel our own. Funny I saw none of those people even have a vegetable in their cart. Maybe you can slice Twinkies!<br />
<br />
In fact, I think the only people ooogling were the dozens of people who grabbed the entire "special offer" "only today" package of Euro Slicer gifts. I took only the free slicer with a smile. If I am being honest, I have to say, if Michael was working I would have grabbed the whole package. I don't know if I am sad that I won't have a perfect tomato pie or relieved I walked away knowing that it is not about perfect slices. I do know I am still laughing!Jennihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02335846209034365468noreply@blogger.com0